


in absence of empathy

by Taco (Tedashee)



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Future Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OCs - Freeform, One-Sided Attraction, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Smut, a bunch of them from the Gang AU me and a friend came up with, feli is a top, most of my Felicest fics have him as a top lol, you'll see who it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5644006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedashee/pseuds/Taco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano bit his lip, a frown furrowing his brow and he steeled himself, finger slipping over the trigger. </p><p>It was just one job...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Feliciano drummed fingers on the table, the staccato of the tips of his fingers on the wood of his desk a relief from the silence. A man sat across from him, hands curled over the ends of the armrests and an easy smile on his face. How one could smile with the proposition, no,  _ ultimatum _ , he had just given him, Feliciano would never know. Then again...had his grandfather not mastered this skill, and tried to instill it in him, his successor? Still--

“Have you thought it over?” The man- Giovanni D’Angelo, he had a name, a name that he would be wise to remember as long as they were partners- nodded to the picture in Feliciano’s hand. “It’s not that much to ask. Your grandfather would have had no problem doing this for an old friend of his, and it would assure me that his heir is interested in keeping me as a...friend.” 

Hazel eyes were dragged to the picture once more with a sense. The man, no,  _ boy _ , was gazing off at some unforeseen object, a sketchpad in his hand and a smile threatening to spread across his face. Innocent. But apparently not. “...Tell me who he is again? Sorry, I simply...need to get my information straight.” Feliciano said, giving the other an apologetic smile. 

“Of course. That-” And there was a tap on the picture “-Is Luciano Palladino. I don’t know what surname he goes by now. Possibly D’Amore. He’s funny like that.” There was almost an affectionate tone at that, before Giovanni shook it off. “He’s seventeen years old, an expert fighter and he was the cause of a leak in my syndicate before I let him go. But...I have seen the error of my ways, and now I need for you to take care of him.”

“Because he has information on your gang.”

“Exactly.”

“Ah.” Feliciano gave a small nod and set the picture down. “And it would be unfortunate if that fell into the wrong hands; I understand.” Somehow he couldn’t help but feel bad for this boy; seventeen years old, and unfortunate enough to have been tangled up in this. A shame. But this was necessary to solidify his gang’s ties with the D’Angelos. One boy was not an issue. “So, if you don’t mind my asking of course...how did he get access to such information in the first place? I can only assume it’s not easy to get for a boy to receive such...high level information.”

A laugh bubbled up, deep and tinged with regret as the man leaned back in his seat, one hand buried in in greying red curls. Wondering if this sort of life would lead him to such old appearance even in youth Feliciano just waited for the laughter to die down quietly. “Not as gullible as one would expect of the youth hmm? I like you Feliciano.” He finally said as his laughter died down, his gaze traveling from the young leader out the window. “Ah...Luciano…he is my son.” Seeing that horrified look in the other man’s eyes in his peripherals Giovanni turned to look at him, interlacing his fingers together and resting his arms on the table. “My advice to you Feliciano Vargas- don’t have children. Because you will have three futures in front of you. One; you will be forced to put the burden of leadership on their shoulders. Two; you will have to bury them. And three...you will have to kill them.” With that, the man stood up, patting Feliciano on the shoulder. “Get close to him, shoot him from across the street. Kill him while he’s a boy or wait for him to be a man. Either way...I want...no. I need Luciano dead, Feliciano.” There was a small nod and Giovanni squeezed his shoulder gently. “It’s only the first of many. It’ll get easier.”

And with that, Giovanni was gone, leaving Feliciano with a picture on his desk and a growing weight on his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ah,  _ Feliciano _ ..." 

Thumbs pressed in the indent of Luciano's hips kept them as still as humanly possible as he peppered his throat with kisses, his lips stopping at times to bruise thin skin with love bites. Luciano moaned softly at a hickey right under his jaw and hugged him tighter. 

God he was fucking cute. Managing to work Luciano's arms off of him he pinned his wrists to the bed, one hand wrapped around both as he stopped thrusting almost completely. There was a low needy whine as Feliciano drew in and out of him achingly slow. And Luciano writhed but he couldn't make him go any faster, and he rolled his hips off the sheets, trying to get more friction. Feliciano pulled out, only the tip still in that warmth and Luciano moaned at the loss. "Feliciano please--" His words were that of the desperate and just heated that coil inside him, a shudder running up his spine as he met Luciano's eyes.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you-- I  _ need _ you Feli."

"Feliciano."

"Feliciano, please Feliciano."

He couldn't help but smile at Luciano as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. Few things were as endearing to him as the way the boy looked at him right now, unfathomable desire pooling in those eyes. All because of him. All of it for him. Luciano made it pretty fucking easy to be possessive of him. “Alright alright, contain yourself corleone.” He all but purred as he sheathed himself inside Luciano, the boy’s chest rising high enough enough to meet his lips. There was really no need to go fast. Luciano was subject to his every movement nonetheless. Slow, deliberate, he dragged out every thrust, each roll of his hips causing the boy beneath him to moan in pleasure.

A moan spiked into a gasp when he struck that spot and Luciano arched against him. "There, oh god right there--" Getting a better grip on his sweaty wrists as he continued to shove into him at a slow pace. "Feli go faster!"

"But why? This pace is fine with me." That was a lie; he ached to pound into him, to fill Luciano's mind with nothing but him, to make him go crazy for him. But he always did that. Undoing his little lover slowly was so much fun as well. "You should be more patient  _ mi amore _ ." He murmured as he hit that spot again. And again, and again, those delicious cries renewed with each stroke and it was beautiful. Heat pooled in his stomach as his orgasm drew closer and his body tensed against Luciano's. How close he was but he couldn't come yet. Pressing his mouth to Luciano's throat he licked over the bruises, catching the sweat that ran down his throat on his tongue, savoring the taste. All his. 

He could feel his Adam's apple bob against his tongue as Luciano swallowed, voice box vibrating against his lips as Luciano let out a moan. So close- he could hear it in his voice as Luciano moaned out his name almost hoarsely. Goddamn if he didn't want to come just from hearing his voice. "Come on corleone, I wanna see you~" Feliciano murmured against his skin before positioning himself so he could look down at the boy. "Come on  _ bambino _ ." Luciano bit his lip in retaliation for that, struggling to keep himself composed even as Feliciano snapped his hips and Luciano threw back his head, on the verge of sobbing. "Come on  _ amore _ ,  _ mi corleone _ , I wanna see you come." His own voice wavered as he neared his climax, only barely holding himself back as Luciano tightened around him. “ _ Luciano. Luciano. Mi amore. Mi corleone. Mi bello. Mi angelo. _ ”

A cry that bordered on a scream wrenched from his throat as Luciano came, squeezing Feliciano tight enough to spur his own orgasm, Luciano’s name a moan on his lips. “Luciano...do you have a voice fetish?” He asked once he got his breath back, letting go of his wrists and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I...I do not.” He got out between gulps of air as he arched his back in a stretch, wiping tears from his eyes with the palm of his heel.

“Luciano, I’ve seen your face when I talk to you in Italian.”

“So?”

“I’ve seen the front of your pants too.”

“Shut up.” Luciano leaned up and kisses Feliciano before flopping back onto the bed, letting out a soft sigh as Feliciano brushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. “Mmm...I love you…”

“I love you too.” He smiled and lay down beside him, letting Luciano curl up close to him, the warmth of his breath spilling over his chest and heating his skin. “Good night Luciano.” There was mumble that resembled a good night as Luciano pressed his face into his shoulder. Feliciano watched him sleep, comfortable, the sort of expression on his face that one sees when they feel loved. Safe. There was an incredible amount of trust that Luciano put in him and Feliciano knew it, because he saw how cautious Luciano was around others. Sleeping in the view of other Ascendants was a rarity; only when he was absolutely exhausted did it happen. And even then, Feliciano knew he trusted them...just not enough to leave himself completely vulnerable. But Feliciano was another story. In his arms Luciano felt completely safe.

And that was his error.

He pulled something out, a shape, rectangular of a sort and in the moonlight it was fully visible, a gun, loaded and aimed at Luciano’s face. Feliciano bit his lip, a frown furrowing his brow and he steeled himself, finger slipping over the trigger. It was just one job. That was all he had to do. Shoot Luciano. Shoot him, while Luciano slept, so he could stay innocent when he woke in angels’ arms. Luciano stirred softly but didn’t awake, a sigh tumbling over his lips in his sleep. His eyes crinkled in affection and he lowered the gun, returning it to it’s spot. “...No...Tomorrow…” Feliciano murmured to himself as he pulled Luciano into his arms, closing his eyes and dreading the next night.

But welcoming it as well. One more time to hold Luciano in his arms like this.


	3. Chapter 3

“Let’s….see…” Feliciano murmured as he circled something else on his map in crayon. If they just took back this section of town, the Ascendants should be able to retain their hold over majority of territory. Should. There was the key word. He sighed and tucked the crayon behind his ear, turning when he heard a door opening and closing behind him. Luciano yawned as he walked in, a towel around his waist and one over his head, sleepily drying auburn locks. “Amore, you have to dry your hair properly.” He exclaimed as Luciano sat down beside him.

“Don’t care. Too tired.” The boy murmured, sitting still so Feliciano could reach over and dry him off, leaving him fluffy haired. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” Feliciano grinned and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Ready for bed?” Luciano bobbed a nod and slipped the towel from his waist, getting up to find boxers and pull them on. “You don’t need any underwear!” 

A towel hit him in the face for his troubles and he couldn’t help but laugh as Luci dropped on top of him. “Shut up…” Luciano mumbled sleepily. 

He just laughed and pressed a kiss to Luciano’s forehead, rolling slightly so they could lay on his side, his boyfriend in his arms. “Alright alright~” Reaching over he flipped off the lamp and hugged him to his chest. “Good night Luciano.”

“Good night Feliciano.”

Falling asleep within a few minutes, Luciano dozed, his legs tangled up with Feliciano’s. The older man couldn’t help but smile at him. Luciano was peaceful in his rest. Unlike how he usually was, a frown etched in his brow from worry or pain. It would be great if he never had to see that pained look on his little lover’s face again. But….that would be impossible.

It was the same routine. 

He fetched the gun from its’ usual spot, admiring the way it caught the moonlight, the black metal appearing silver for a brief moment. Flipping the safety off and cocking the gun, again, Feliciano aimed it at the boy, the barrel pointed in between his brows. Every night he asked himself if he could do this. And every night he steeled himself, his index finger on the trigger. And every. Single. Night. He couldn’t do it. The safety would be turned back on and returned to its’ spot.

Ironic; Feliciano still couldn’t bring himself to complete the first job he was given.

Luciano shifted in his sleep and Feliciano caught his breath. This happened often though, and his lover tended to go right back to sleep, but it still scared him. What if he woke up? No-- that was too horrible to even imagine. Feliciano sighed and began to lower the gun, pausing when Luciano shifted again, wrinkling his brow and making a small noise in his sleep. His heart stuttered before stopping altogether, his breath catching in his throat when those eyelashes fluttered, before his eyes opened. Frozen completely an unspoken prayer went up that he would just go right back to sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t see. Maybe he was too tired, too locked in the throes of sleep to notice.

Sadly his prayer was in vain.

Pink irises blinked the sleep away, focused on Feliciano briefly before they locked onto the gun. All he could do was watch as a flurry of emotions passed over his face, reflected in his eyes. First confusion, his brow furrowing slightly as his gaze went from the gun, to Feliciano, and back to the gun. Then anger- nothing short of pure fury making his eyes seem almost red in the waning light. And he knew he deserved nothing less. Sadness and betrayal came next; the hurt in his eyes cut Feliciano like a knife as they grew wet with tears, threatening to spill over his eyelids and onto the pillows. And finally, resignation came, probably the most unexpected and definitely what hurt the most. The light in Luciano’s eyes had dulled as he looked back at Feliciano before he simply squeezed his eyes shut. And waited. Waited for him to pull the trigger and blast his brains all over the sheets. ‘ _ It’s only the first of many. It’ll get easier _ ’ Giovanni had said, the words come back to echo in his mind but the gun still shook in his hand. He still couldn’t breathe and his heart felt like it was going tear in two as he tried to squeeze the trigger.

He couldn’t do it. His breathing returned and it came out as a gasp, of relief maybe. Feliciano flicked off the safety and put it away, sitting up and turning his back on the man behind him. What could he ever hope to say to make things better? Could he even make things better-- what do you say to someone you were about to shoot in the face? “...Luciano, I--” The sound of the door closing softly made him go silent. Like a ghost Luciano had slipped away for the last time and there was no one he could blame but himself. Feliciano flopped onto his side, a hollow feeling in his chest and he was too empty to even cry, to feel anything other than regret.

Not a man, but a  _ boy _ . Just a boy who didn’t ask for this and he took his love and just threw it back at him, poisoned in the most bitter of ways. Just a boy.

And he had killed him with his love.


	4. Chapter 4

Blood dripped from his knuckles, mixing with the puddles on the ground and dispersing in the water. The pouring rain diluted the blood that from ran from his head and his nose. It dripped into his eyes. Hung from his eyelashes. Mingled with his tears. He was soaked to the bone, the only thing he wore besides his briefs, those khaki pants, were soaked enough to see his skin underneath. His shoes were still in Feliciano’s room along with his shirt.

Along with Feliciano.

He tripped on nothing and fell to his knees in a puddle, staring at his reflection in the water. There were a million and one questions in his mind but he couldn’t ask them. Not while this lump was in his throat. Not while there was a hole in his heart, as if his lover had shot him right there, left the organ bleeding out.

There was a countdown in his head, the referee counting to ten, the crowding cheer for his rise and cheering for him to stay down, jeers echoing everywhere. And Feliciano was in opposing corner with his gun.

_ Get up Luciano. _

And he got up, slowly, the weight of the world on his shoulders as he continued to walk. He couldn’t go back home; he’d already told Zia he wouldn’t be home that night, and besides...he couldn’t tell her about this. Matthew could never know about this, not with his position. Aleksey...no, they weren’t that close. Shiori was a possibility but really, no one else in the Ascendants could know this. The amount of people he knew in this city were few and far between.

Luckily for him….he knew a guy.

 

“....Luciano?” Lutz stared down at him from the doorway of apartment, still in his nightclothes and one hand buried in his curls. “God you’re soaked-- get inside, come on.” He stepped aside so that he could walk in and closed the door after him. “I thought cats didn’t like the rain. Don’t sit on the couch yet, lemme get you a towel. Matter of fact, go get in the shower and warm up.”

Stepping aside so the much taller man could get around him, Luciano made his way into the cold tiled bathroom, eying the rain out the window.  _ Why do bad things always happen in the rain _ , he wondered as he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Five minutes of just standing in the shower, with his thoughts, was five minutes too long and Luciano practically jumped out, turning off the water.  _ Why-- _ Rapping on the door made him flinch, turning fearful eyes on the door before he heard “Luciano? I have a towel for you--” Luciano opened up the door before Lutz could finish, taking the towel from him. “Thank you.” He murmured as he wrapped it around himself.

“Of course…” Lutz wrapped a shoulder around him and helped him over to the couch, which was already generously covered by more towels. Luciano took the couch. Lutz took the stool, sitting across from him and just watching, silent question in his eyes. And Luciano knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his questions bottled in for long. So far as he knew, the German man was the only one in the Ascendants he could trust. His only….friend.

“....Feliciano...wants to kill me.” He said softly. “I woke up to see him pointing a gun at my head…”

A flurry of emotions flew over his face before it returned to its’ blank slate once more. “...Do you know why?”

“I have an idea.”

“Is it your fault?”

“No.”

“Then why--”

“It’s not important Lutz.”

“Yes it is fucking important--”

“Lutz!” The bleached blonde stopped speaking, his eyes on Luciano who had stood up, hands fisted in the towel. “...I’m not sure what the reason is. I-I don’t know for sure. I’m just...trying to come up with some reason,  _ any reason _ , for why I would wake up to see the man I love about to shoot me, I just--” Sobs choked out his words and Lutz stood up almost immediately, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. “ _ I just don’t understand. _ ”

“Shhhhh...I’m sorry Luciano.”

“I don’t understand Lutz! What did I do wrong--”

“Nothing, it’s not your fault…” Arms hugged him even tighter, leaning over so he could rest his chin on the top of Luciano’s head. “Luciano, you can stay with me for also long as you need to. I won’t let him hurt you.” There was a shake of his head as Luciano sobbed onto his chest. “I won’t let him hurt you Luciano, you’re safe with me...you’re safe.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Four days later, Lutz strolled back into his apartment to find the Italian stretched out on his couch, sleeping. His sketchbook was clasped to his chest and he couldn’t help but slip it from his hands to see what he had sketched. Glass shards in amazing detail surrounded an arm, that’s all he could see, from the shoulder on, blood and glass surrounding that arm. And it looked real. “God…” He breathed and looked down when he heard Luciano murmur in his sleep. The sketchbook was tossed onto the drawer and he sat down on the couch, placing a hand on his hip. 

Luciano flinched in response and his eyes flew open, staring at Lutz in wide eyed fear before he realized where he was. “A-ah...Lutz. Sorry…” He murmured quietly. “Thought you were someone else….”

“Luciano…” Rough fingers came up to caress his cheek gently, and he couldn’t stop, he was already leaning in, his lips brushing against Luciano’s before he wholeheartedly kissed him. The boy in turn squeezed his eyes shut, fingers gripping Lutz’s shirt tightly. Were his hands shaking? Was he scared? Unsure and worried he instinctively pulled back, purple eyes gazing over the other male’s frame. “I’m sorry I should have...I should have asked.”

A nod was all he got, Luciano’s finger’s still clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“...May I?”

“...May you….what?”

“May I kiss you?”

“...Lutz, why--”

“You know why.” Luciano couldn’t look at him and he briefly wondered if he had overstepped the unspoken boundaries. He couldn’t fathom how much his friend’s head must be spinning right now. “Luciano.” His fingers stole under his shirt, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles into his his hips, and Luciano’s breath hitched slightly.

“May I?”

“....Yes….”

That was the only confirmation he needed. Pinning the small man to the couch he hooked his thumbs in Luciano’s pajama pants, pulling them down along with his briefs. Luciano shuddered as cool air hit his cock, the faint touch of his fingers along the length making it rise even more. “...Are you scared?”

“Not of you.”

“Really?”

“...I trust you.”

“I’m glad.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss him again gently. “Now spread your legs~”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You know what I want? A tattoo.”

Two days after they first had sex, Lutz could honestly say that he was both happy he could finally hold Luciano in his arms and extremely pained. But still the man smiled at Luciano and traced circles on his skin. “Well you are talking to the right man. What are you thinking about getting?”

“Constellations. All over my back.” Luciano smiled to himself. “All over my scars….”

“...You have the cash?”

“You know I do.”

“I’ll get started right away.” Lutz leaned over and pressed his lips to his shoulder. “I don’t mind your scars though.”

“I do.”

“...Luciano?”

“Mmm?”

“Tell me you won’t go back.”

The other man sighed and rolled over, his back to Lutz. He frowned and pushed himself up to lean over the other’s smaller frame, painfully aware of how he towered over Luciano, dwarfing him. “You can’t go back. What if he still wants to kill you?!”

“...Then he can.”

“Luciano, no--”

“Lutz, you don’t understand. This is all I have.”

“You have your aunt--”

“What will Feliciano do to her if he suspects I’m going to run? He said he loved me and he was going to shoot me, who knows what he’ll do to her?”

“You don’t believe that, I know you don’t! You’re going back to him because you’re still in love with him! Even after what he did to you! You’re still allowing to him control you!” He would see Luciano’s shoulders shake, the beginnings of anxiety taking over. How Feliciano could turn a man like Luciano, a fighter, into this….scared boy...he would never know. It pained his heart to see him like this but what could he do? “Luciano...please don’t go back to him.”

“...I’m sorry Lutz.” Propping himself up on his elbows Luciano looked over his side, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“....Why can’t it be me?” His hand came up to cup Luciano’s cheek, hurt welling up in his eyes and he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Why?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know, I just, I can’t...I love him.”

A heavy sigh spilled from his lips. Love like this hurt so much, much more than he bargained on. “May I still love you?”

“...Yes…”

He smiled at Luciano bitterly and pulled him to his chest, hands holding him close as he buried his nose into his shoulder. “...Are you scared?”

“...Not of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love Lutz, I love him so much that I made him in love with the one guy he can't have. Aren't I an asshole.


	5. Chapter 5

It was two weeks before he made his way back into the Ascendants penthouse. In the few days that he’d been back, Luciano had barely seen Feliciano, and when their eyes did meet, they quickly averted their eyes. Looking the other way was better than acknowledging things

Better than speaking.

 

“Hey Luci!” Luciano looked up from his sketchbook at the rather familiar voice, seeing Alessandro smiling at him. “You were gone a little while-- you okay there?” He stiffened up before he could stop himself.  _ The barrel of a gun was in front of him, moonlight shining off cold steel-- _ “Luciano?” Alessandro lowered the gun he was cleaning off. “Are you okay?”

“Ah-- sorry! I was just…” Fingering the fabric of the bandage Luciano held up his injured hand. “I hurt my hand pretty bad the other week...went in to see someone about all my other injuries too. Put me on bed rest, you know?” The nod of acknowledgment from the other made him smile slightly. 

_ Seems like he’d become a better liar. _

Alessandro was smiling by now, his hands in his pockets. “Hey, have you seen the boss?”

“Why the fuck would I know where he is?” The bite in his voice was venomous and shocked Alessandro, much less himself. Since when did he sound like that?

“...I guess? I’ll go look for him.” Luciano nodded but didn’t really hear him. “See ya Luciano.” 

And he was left alone again, alone with his sketchbook and his thoughts. Fingers clutched the pencil tight, fingernails digging into the soft wood as it flew across the paper, his anger and hurt spilling across the blank white. Writing on a wall, a finger dipped in what appeared to be blood had written ‘you should have seen it coming’ in calligraphy, beautiful curled words across bricks.

He slammed the sketchbook shut.

Stuffing into a backpack, Luciano all but tossed it into one of empty penthouse rooms, though not before retrieving his wraps from it first, only to immediately storm out of the penthouse. 

When the heart doubted, he fought. 

It was the only thing Luciano could stay assured of. His hands were always stronger than his fragile heart, because while bones broke they could mend, whereas the boy's heart was still shattered into a million pieces, unable to fit back together properly. But he could break his bones over and over and over until the pain radiating from his broken body could drown out the sounds of his broken heart.

 

What was wrong with wanting to forget?

 

He was a fighter. And therefore, he didn’t need to see Feliciano all the time. While his lover-- scratch that, his boss, usually came to all his fights to cheer him on, Luciano didn’t see him anymore. Which was just fine with him. He didn’t need to see Feliciano. He didn’t want to see Feliciano. All these years he had looked out for himself, and he could do it again.

So why did it hurt so bad?

If someone asked him where Feliciano was he responded with enough venom to sour the air between them. When they passed each other in the penthouse, neither of them spoke to the other. And if their eyes actually met, the grin he gave Feliciano didn’t quite reach his eyes, sadness and anger could be seen in the glint of his teeth. But they wouldn’t open their mouths and actually speak to each other.

And he resented his cowardice.

But even more than that, he resented that the one time he wanted Feliciano to be honest, the man guarded himself. And it pissed him off so, so damn much. Of all the people in this gang, this family as Feliciano had proclaimed it, Feliciano had always seemed the most honest-- and he just fell for that sweet smile and those warm arms and the honesty in his eyes.

Was all of it a lie? Every word that slipped from those honeyed lips? 

No, it couldn’t be.

...Could it?

He had to know.

It'd been about a month since he'd come back to the Ascendants but Luciano was no closer to dealing with his demons. He and Feliciano barely acknowledged each other. And he could deal with that. What he couldn't put up with was not knowing. He knew who had sanctioned the hit. He had a vague idea of why. The question of why Feliciano did it niggled at him, burning through his mind and corroding him. 

He had to know why.

And he knew exactly what to ask.

 

Lutz would wake up to find his gun gone from his drawer. Hidden in the back of his pants, it was hidden under the hem of an oversized black t-shirt with glistening fangs on the front, and Luciano bared his teeth at anyone who tried to talk to him. They got the message. A single voice could be heard from inside the office; seemed like Feliciano was talking on the phone. Not his concern. Wrenching the door open and storming in, Feliciano looked up in time to see him whip out his gun and lean over his desk, unflinching resolve in his eyes.

“You tell me what my price is, what my skin and bones is worth.” And he put the gun under his chin. “Or I’ll shoot myself and get your papers dirty and that would be a shame. Tell me the price my father put on my body.”

If Feliciano was surprised that he had deduced who had ordered his hit, he tried not to show it, a double blink the only outward sign. But his mouth remained closed. Until cocked the gun, finger stroking the trigger gently. ".... Twenty-five thousand for your bones and for the marrow within to stop making blood. Ten thousand for your mouth because of the potential for things to spill, and thirty-five thousand for your brain, specifically the limbic system for the usual. The silence of old memories and the halt of generation of happier ones." Steadily , Feliciano laced his fingers and brought his mouth to them. "The typical order. Like a burger. Just at a higher price for persuasion."

 

God if that tone didn’t make him want to punch the man in the face and scream at him. No no, this was much worse because he looked him in the face, and had the audacity to look at him all calm like. As if this was just a business talk. As if this was just someone else he could smile at and charm. As if it were anyone but  _ him _ .

“So. Seventy thousand dollars offered to you, to kill me. And what, you didn’t do it because you liked fucking me too much? It that what it was Feliciano? No, that couldn’t be it, because you could have anyone around here for much cheaper. And just think of the bodies you could have with seventy thousand.” Luciano grinned through a face full of tears, idly twirling the gun in his hand. “You know what? I think, for a second there, you pitied me. Not enough to shoot me from the get go. Not enough to have me killed during a fight. No. It was much more fulfilling to take my heart first wasn’t it? Take my soul, take everything I thought I owned and make it yours before you killed me. Much more satisfying huh? It would be.”

“Finish your job and shoot me through the head. Make my father proud. Make your grandfather proud. And do me a fucking favor for once.”

That seemed to strike a nerve because a furrow was in Feliciano’s brow now. "Maybe it would have been more pitiful of me to have killed you right when you opened your eyes--"

“Maybe it would have been  _ nicer _ , then I wouldn’t have to walk around with the knowledge that the man who fucked me would have rather put a gun up my ass than his dick.”

A hot flash of anger and a sharp inhale through his nose could be heard before he could register his movement, the gun the fighter was holding clattered to the floor, his hands tight on Luciano’s collar.

What could he even do? He had failed his original attempt at killing the boy, and the failure only proved his inability to shoot the man he dared to say "loved." 

"You can leave," he said slowly, voice giving way to emotion. "And just go."

 

Close but not close enough. What would it take to rile this man up?

“…Don’t you think I’ve tried? Believe me, I’m not staying because I have a choice.” Whether his words were choked off by the fabric pulled tight around his throat or the emotion welling up in him Luciano would never know. “I  _ hate _ you. I _ love  _ you. And sadly I can’t leave you because I will always come back— I’ve tried to leave you ten times in the last four weeks and yet, here I am.”

“I think that makes me a masochist. Or just truly fucked up. Though if you’re just gonna look at me instead of doing me a favor and strangling me, please give me back the gun. Since you can’t do it, I have to finish the job, again.”

His lips traced the ghostly words of what he wanted to say.  _ I'm sorry. _ But, at what point do even the noblest of actions don't prompt an acceptance? He read once about Sisyphus and he couldn't help but wonder if the grotesque story he read as a child was, after all, foreshadowing for the now.

What would he taste if he kissed Luciano? If he lapped at his skin as he did two months before? Would the tender flesh be soured with guilt, or rather chapped and bitter with the rush and realization of betrayal?

He leaned in and crushed their mouths together with much teeth and no tenderness, finding to his horror, how the taste of the boy hadn't changed. Oh how wonderfully Luciano smelt and tasted.

Pulling back he didn't try to lick at the leftover taste on his lips.

"... You're willing to stay even though your captor wants to kill you? Didn't you learn of Stockholm Syndrome? Silly cat--" Yet, at this point, who was being held by whom?

To his shame, Luciano had flinched when the man leaned in to kiss him, not from the expected pain. Not from his bite, much fiercer than he had ever felt from Feli and that he matched, bite for bite, blood for blood. No. There was nothing in that kiss. No love. No resentment either. He flinched simply from the fact that it was Feliciano’s lips on his once again.

It was simply Feliciano. And he hated how much he craved and loathed his touch, poison in a beautiful bottle that had become addictive, achingly sweet with a bitter aftertaste that ringed of metal. And even as it killed him he couldn’t put it down.

Would it not have been simpler if he had never opened his eyes?

“I’ll stay until you finally work up the nerve to kill me,  _ amore _ .” How deep he had fallen into this rabbit hole of love and sorrow indeed. It seemed he would never find his way out.

And, now it was ditto for the angel that had truly now lost his wings in a contract binding another's souls to any tool that could take a life.

Pushing Luciano back, Feliciano picked the gun off the floor and aimed it at the boy. Pulling the trigger multiple times didn't even help relieve him of the impending torture, of all the regret in the world condensed into a body so seemingly innocent of tarnish: Luciano.

With the barrel smoking and bullet holes in his walls, Feliciano lowered the gun and held it back out to the boy.

"You're dismissed."

 

The sigh of relief that had left his lips when he finally saw Feliciano aim the gun at him was overjoyed. Finally he would be put out of his misery. As one who had the distinct pleasure of being shot in the past, at least he could steel himself for this.

Six shots rang out. There was no pain. There was no blood.

And there were no wounds because Feliciano shot at everywhere but him. Luciano sighed as he took the gun from the man, eying it with longing in those dulled pink eyes. “Of course....”

But because he was a vindictive son of a bitch, he couldn't leave without having the last word. Walking over and placing a hand on Feliciano's shoulder, he forced his boss to turn around and face him, Luciano pressed forward until the man was forced to sit on the edge of his desk, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "If you're not going to kill me," In between Feliciano's legs with his hands on either side, he leaned forward until they were nose to nose, breath mingling. Touching one finger to his lips, he trailed it down his chin,  neck to chest, stomach, and stopped at the raised bulge in the front of his pants. "The least you could do...is make me feel."

"...Luciano?"

"Fuck me."

Feliciano's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, hazel eyes flicking between Luciano's hand and his eyes, something akin to pity in his eyes and maybe...sadness? Regret? It was possible but Luciano would never know. Because Feliciano would never tell him. "Not now. I'm busy." He murmured, hand coming up to squeeze his ass. "Now run along  _ gatino _ ."

"Fuck you."

"Later."

He always got the upper hand. Luciano tsked and turned on his heel, stomping out the room. A sob was stifled immediately by his hands as he made his way down the hallway, safe from those hazel eyes that seemed to be burned into his skin.

Branded with Feliciano's touch on his skin, a love that couldn't be erased and a feeling that made his skin crawl, drugs in his blood that numbed the pain only slightly.

  
And he was addicted to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was one that me and my friend (the one whose interpretation of Feli is who I'm basing this off of) co-wrote, so that's why the style is a little bit different if you notice lol

**Author's Note:**

> So...this was just an idea that I came up with, with my friend, that was never supposed to go this far I swear. But then it did and we ended up crying so...yeah.


End file.
